


Instant Regret

by slutbumwalla



Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Cute, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Hard to get, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-02-26 18:49:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18722866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slutbumwalla/pseuds/slutbumwalla
Summary: Are you gonna date Henry Cavill? Probably. Is he going to have to work for it? Yeah.





	1. First Night Out

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back and currently into Henry Cavill, so here this is. It's going to be a series, smut (like smutty smuuuuut is 100% already written) will eventually be involved, so look forward to that. If you have asks, questions, requests or anything else, hmu on Tumblr @ slutbumwalla (I mostly repost & stuff but I check every day). Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

You walk into the bar unusually self-aware, even for you. Posture straight, a little bit of a strut to overcompensate for your nerves, trying to remain calm in spite of the fact that your eyes wanted to wildly scan everywhere, desperate to find a friendly face to latch on to.  
You hated work mixers, and what was worse was everyone knew it. You were anticipating being on the receiving end of a lot of ribbing about how rare it was to see you out. Which would be exactly what you didn’t want, of course, and you never got why people felt the need to comment on it. Why point that out? You wondered to yourself, already getting irritated. It was bad enough you’d maxed out the number of times you could pass on a work event, everyone piling on about it wasn’t likely to make you RSVP ‘yes’ to the next one.  
You blow out a breath, realize you’re getting ahead of yourself. Making your way to the bar, you figure you can kill time ordering a drink while you get the layout of the room. Before you can get there, you hear your name called out and you crane your head around, spotting one of the few co-workers you considered a friend. She was waving you over, and you’d just smiled in relief and switched direction towards her when you noticed who else was at her table.  
Henry. Of course.  
Ok, so your nerves were due to more than just not wanting to be at this particular social function. The fact that Henry was going to be there was also a source of anxiety to you. Not because there was anything wrong with him, because there really wasn’t. Except maybe for the fact that the man seemed singularly focused on winning you over romantically and you’d been sidelining him since he’d asked you out the second week of production.  
At first, when you’d heard he was going to be working on the project, you were glad you were on the phone so no one could see how hot your face got at the thought of him. Prior to meeting, you’d fully steeled yourself to keep your cool while he was around. You were determined to be professional, as this job was important to you, so you’d been nothing but polite and distant, throwing up a mental wall that seemed to be effectively blocking any thoughts that may have wanted to linger over the way his lashes fanned out over his eyes when he was talking to you, or how good he smelled, or how soft and touchable his t-shirts looked, or the way his voice lowered slightly whenever he addressed you, as if he were trying to get you to lean in, pay a little more attention to him. Then one day he’d caught you alone while getting a drink at craft services and casually asked if you wanted to go to dinner sometime. You’d been caught off-guard, your knee-jerk reaction was to politely put him off with a rather weak excuse.  
“Oh, uh…I’m not really dating right now?” you’d said, flushing in spite of yourself, “I’m kind of just in work-mode. Plus,” you added, landing on a decent excuse, and the real reason you were hesitant about going out with him, about two sentences too late, “you know, we’re working together and I don’t really see people I work with.” You sounded lame even to yourself and you bit your lip and glanced up at him. He seemed a little nonplussed, looking down at you with his lips pressed together and his eyebrows comically raised.  
You laughed. “Sorry. Although seriously, you’re not missing much. I’m not that great. We’re ok, though.” You’d patted him on the shoulder and he’d chuckled, finally. He’d blown out a breath and asked if you guys were really still cool and you’d assured him you were.  
And it had seemed like you were, for a week or so. But you’d started picking up on the fact that he seemed to be around you more than he needed to be. You’d catch him looking at you and you'd have to work to keep your face neutral, pretend you hadn’t noticed, even though he’d never seemed the least bit embarrassed to be caught. You began to think he was doing it on purpose, getting a little closer to you than he needed to be, asking you inane questions, always trying to hold your attention a little longer than it was warranted. It started to get a little annoying. Not because the attention didn’t secretly thrill you, but you started to hate the way this man could walk into a room and immediately fluster you without actually DOING anything. More than once you’d been in mid-sentence and found yourself having to backtrack, pretending you’d had a new thought that you had to mull over before going on. Too many of those and people would start to notice what the common denominator was when your normally sharp mind started dithering.  
After a few maddening weeks of this, Henry brought up the idea of going out again, still casual, wondering if you’d thought about changing your mind. It was then that you suddenly understood he’d been playing with you the entire time, and the knowledge that he’d known about every jumpy moment and distracted thought he was causing irked you enough to make your stubborn streak kick in. Wildly attracted to him or no, you weren’t here to be messed with. So you’d turned him down again, this time with narrowed eyes that, unfortunately, didn’t do much to intimidate him because they were accompanied by a wry grin letting him know you’d caught on.  
So it was this game you were now walking towards, trying to focus on your friend while ignoring Henry as you approached the table. You could feel, of course, that he was staring directly at you. You knew he’d stare at you as much as he knew you’d ignore him.  
“Hey!” you greet her, bending slightly to give her a hug.  
“Look who made it out!” she answers, leaning back and giving you a beaming smile to welcome you.  
“Yeah, I do things. Sometimes.” You laugh.  
“Do you want to sit? Hey guys, can we make room?” she addresses the five or so people at the table and they begin to shift around, but you’re waving off before a seat can be made at the bench, which is exactly where Henry is sitting.  
“You know what, let me grab a drink first and say hi to a few people. I just got here. I’ll be back, though!” this last sentence was thrown as a mitigating factor, because her face looks so disappointed. Looking up at the general table, you shout over the noise, “Hi, good to see you guys! I'll be right back!” You wave to the familiar faces, not quite making eye contact with Henry but including him in the general sentiment, and walk away, back towards the bar. WHY did you say you’d be back? You hope, you suspect in vain, that he’ll be gone by the time you get back that way.  
Which turns out to be awhile. You make it to the bar and find you’re next to a few more people you know, so you chat with them for awhile. One of the producers walks by and asks you to stop by his table once you’re done there, so you mentally add one more stop between you and Henry. From there it seems like you’re moving from group to group as people stop you, and your earlier concern about being badgered about never showing up proves unfounded. Outside of work and with a few drinks in them, people seem genuinely lovely, and you’re surprised to find you’re enjoying yourself. By the time you finally make it to the producers table you’re at the bottom of your second drink, feeling pretty easygoing and relaxed. It’s a quick conversation, but while you’re shaking hands and talking shop you’re able to determine that, down the row of booths, two tables over, both Henry and your friend are still holding court even though you estimate it’s been at least an hour. Girding yourself and bolstered by liquid courage, you walk back up, tapping your friend on the shoulder.  
“There you are!” she stands to hug you this time, wrapping you up in a solid squeeze, “I was worried you’d taken one look at this crowd and left!” This she jokes to you privately, in a low tone.  
“I am surprising myself by how well I’m doing, actually.” You answer, “I ran into about 20 people, sorry it took me forever to get here.”  
“No worries, that’s what these things are for. You can’t go to the bathroom without it taking 30 minutes.” She laughs understandingly. You nod and go to sip your drink only to find you’ve drained your glass, the straw sending up empty slurping sounds.  
“Oh, shoot,” you frown at the ice clinking nakedly against itself, “I should have gotten another before coming over here, now I-”  
From behind you, a familiar baritone, “Here, I’ve got you.” You turn to see Henry holding his hand out.  
“Oh,” you say, surprised into handing your glass over and giving him your drink order. “Uh, thanks.” You say, watching him walk off.  
“Hm.” Your friend says, quirking an eyebrow at you, and before you can ask her what she means by that she’s herding you into the empty seat Henry just left and leaning across the table to talk to you.  
“You’ve got to sit quickly here, tables are at a premium and people have been seat snatching all night!” she’s back to shouting now just to be heard over the noise.  
“How long have you been here?” you shout back, settling in and looking around to see the bar is even more crowded now than it was when you walked in. Man, you’d been walking around in that? Maybe it just looks more intimidating when there’s a wall of people in front of you.  
Henry returns shortly, setting down drinks for the both of you. You scoot on the bench to accommodate him, making vague noises about being able to find another seat but you know he’s just going to dismiss you. He simply slides in next to you with a brief “Here…” as he grabs your inner thigh and uses his hip to bump you over enough for him to fit.  
“Thanks.” You mumble, caught somewhere between irked and turned on at being so easily manhandled by him. Shaking it off, you decide to be in a good mood and hold up your glass to cheers. He smiles and clinks back and you look away to find your friend grinning at both of you, which makes you immediately frown, but you’re not going to ask her what she’s about in front of Henry, because you know she’d tell you and you know he’d listen and you’re not sure you’d want him to hear her opinion.  
“So you got to do the rounds?” Henry leans in, using the noise of the bar as cover to get a little too close to your ear. You fight to repress a shiver as his breath caresses your neck.  
You clear your throat. “I did, I was telling her” here you nod across the table at your friend, trying to bring her into the conversation, but she’s suddenly engaged with the person next to her, “I surprised myself. Coming in I was intending on having one drink and getting out of here. But it’s not that bad.” You muse, looking around.  
“What is it that makes you nervous?” Henry asks in a low, suggestive tone, and you snap your head around to meet his smirk face to face.  
“I don’t like people.” You lie.  
Henry scoffs, knowing better. “That’s patently untrue. I saw you, you were having fun. Everyone wanted to talk to you. People like it when you come out to these things.”  
“Yeah, well, some people are exhausting.” You deadpan, turning your attention again to the general population of the bar, people watching. Well, mostly ignoring Henry, but people watching, too.  
“Can I ask you a question that might sound silly?” he’s in your ear again, dammit, and since you’re literally thigh-to-thigh it’s hard to pretend you didn’t hear him. You turn your head back towards him but don’t meet his eye, instead nodding as you focus on a spot on the table in front of him.  
“Can I be old-fashioned for a moment?”  
Surprised, you finally look up, amusement on your face. “I’m sorry?”  
He smiles, reminding you that you hate it when he smiles that close to you, looking down at you with your faces so close together. “Old-fashioned. Can I say something old-fashioned and not get in trouble?”  
Your eyes try to narrow but you’re working to suppress a laugh, curious to know where he’s going with this. “You can try.”  
He assesses you for a moment, eyes openly roaming over your now expectant face. “You know how when women couldn’t openly express affection for men around them in public, privately they’d give them some sort of token?” You’re beginning to laugh at the literal medieval direction he’s going with this but under the table he puts his hand on your knee and the earnest expression in his eyes stops you, “Am I being a fool here? Is there anything you can give me that will at least let me have hope for later?”  
Well now you’re floored, a bit. You keep your eyes on his, but lean forward on the table, propping your chin up with your palm and giving off a deep sigh.  
“Well I don’t have any handkerchiefs, if that’s what you mean. What were you thinking?” You’re smirking at him, but the teasing encourages him and he smiles back at you before rubbing his lips together and looking up at the ceiling, pondering.  
“Hair ribbon?” he asks, eyebrow quirking with the question. You shake your head, now thoroughly amused.  
“Lock of hair?” he tries.  
“No!” you laugh.  
“Hmm.” He looks at the ceiling again, thinking. The eyebrow wings up again as he gets a mischievous expression, “Friday night at 8?”  
“Setting dates is not a token gesture, it violates the spirit of the question.” you admonish him, still laughing, “One more try and then you’re out of chances.”  
Henry sighs and looks to the ceiling one last time, the corners of his eyes crinkling in thought. Suddenly he looks down at you, eying what you have on. “How about this?”  
He’s gently taken the hand in your lap and indicated the ring on your index finger. It’s a simple hammered metal thing you bought at a Fair or something, but you’re fond enough of it.  
“But I like this.” You state blankly, not taking your hand out of his.  
“That’s kind of the point.” He says, biting his bottom lip and tapping the side of your ring with his own index finger, somewhat pleadingly.  
You sit back in the booth, your hand still in his, thankfully under the table so not everyone around you can see, and you breathe in and consider for a moment what you’re about to do. Finally, you pull your hand from his and slip off the ring, waiting a beat before holding it out, hesitantly. Smiling an adorably crooked smile you’ve never quite seen out of him before, he palms it, slipping it over his pinkie finger, where it doesn’t quite fit.  
“Thank you.” He says.  
You shoot him a look that lets him know you’re not entirely sure you’ve done the right thing and then pick up your drink, turning your attention back to the people in the bar, ignoring him again, although maybe not as aggressively as before. Behind you, he looks down at his lap, fiddling with the ring still warm from your hand, twisting it around his finger. He smiles, chuckling lightly to himself.  
“Stop that.” You murmur to him, head now turned back in his direction. He looks up at you through his lashes, lips pressed together in a smile he can’t repress.  
You lean towards him. “Instant regret, Cavill.”  
His eyes light up at the use of his surname as a nickname, his mouth ticks up at the corner. “Can’t take it back. Mine now.” He murmurs, clearly enjoying how evident it is that he can get you bothered.  
Narrowing your eyes at him again, you give a quick “Hmph!” and slide out of the booth. Your friend, who allegedly had been in deep conversation with her seatmate this whole time, looks up questioningly.  
“Bathroom.” You say by way of explanation, and, grabbing your drink, you walk away from what you're not sure is the biggest mistake or the best decision of your life. Either way, you're going to need some breathing room.


	2. Doing It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently today is Henry's birthday, so even though I haven't written the chapter that gets them here, I'm going to post the sex. It's sex. Please enjoy the sex.

Your car pulls up to the gate where Henry’s staying and, seeing that it’s open, you direct the driver to pull through. You’re thanking him and have barely stepped foot out of the car when you hear the front door of the house fling open and look up to see Henry striding out towards you.   
“You came.” He breathes, pulling you to him as the car retreats behind you.  
“I told you I would.” You say, rolling your eyes but leaning into him in reassurance.   
He dips his head and takes your lips in a possessive kiss that you almost have to fight your way back from. You get his attention by drumming your palms against his shoulders, a reminder that you’re not the same strength as him.   
He pulls away with a smacking sound, breathing heavily. “Sorry. I’d just convinced myself that you weren’t coming. What took you so long?”  
“I don’t think it took us that long. My ride came pretty quick, there didn’t seem to be much traffic. I just think you’re an impatient boy.” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling up at him.   
“Mm-hmm.” Rumbles up from his chest as he gives you a look that tells you you’re about to find out just how impatient he’s been. He gives you one more brief, firm kiss, and then bends, wraps your arm around his neck and slings you into a fireman’s lift. He turns back towards the house as you squeal in protest.  
“You don’t think this is a bit much?” you call out, trying to brace your arms against his back and lift up enough to see him, but all you get is a glimpse a mischievous smirk from his profile. You have the vaguest impression, once in the house, of a contemporary, open floor plan with a sleek granite kitchen on one side that you try to get a look at, but Henry’s still hauling you through the house and you don’t stop until he’s flung you onto the over-sized bed occupying the center of an over-sized master suite done up in what you think of as “expensive rental gray”.   
You prop yourself up on the bed, elbows at your sides and calves dangling over the edge, and give Henry, towering above you, a sardonic look. “You’re really gonna commit to this whole mood tonight, aren’t you?”  
“I told you I would.” He throws your words back at you, grinning, and you roll your eyes and fling yourself back down on the bed.   
“Fine. How would you like to start?”  
He kneels down on the floor, using his knees to knock your feet apart so he’s between your legs, and runs his hands along your thighs until he’s hooked them behind your knees. With a rough yank, he pulls you towards him, your ass now almost hanging off the edge of the bed.   
“C’mere.” He murmurs, and reaches out to grab your arms and pull you into a sitting position in front of him. Between the bed and your height difference, his face sits a little higher than chest height to you now, so it’s you who gets to wrap a hand around the back of his neck to lean down and kiss him. This kiss is slower, almost sleepy. Like you’re both drugged. Henry wraps his arms around you, gradually pulling you tighter to him. Both of your arms are wrapped around him now, forearms resting at the back of his neck as he yanks you to him again with a rush of breath. You break the kiss, catching your own breath as he buries his head in your clothed breasts, breathing for a moment before nipping at your skin through the fabric of your top.   
“Off.” You hear him murmur as he begins tugging your hem up from the back. You kiss his temple gently before releasing him to straighten up and unzip the side of your top, lifting it over your head with ease and tossing it to the side.   
His mouth is on your breasts instantly, one hand splayed over the clasp at the back of your bra as he uses the other to anchor your thigh to his side. He’s kissing over the tops of your breasts, nipping along the borders of your bra, running his lips over the clothed parts, gently biting through the fabric at the little bumps where your nipples are. You’re looking down at him, lower lip caught firmly in your teeth, and you have to suck in a breath when he suddenly flicks his gaze upwards, his deep blue eyes fringed by thick black lashes, lids heavy with desire. He pulls back, your eyes still locked together. He runs the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, tilting his head as he traces a path with his fingertips along your jawline, across your collarbone, gliding over your shoulder and taking your bra strap with it. He swipes across your opposite collarbone, knocking off the other strap. You reach behind you and unhook your bra, and he seems to hold his breath even as his gaze intensifies. Your bra falls away from your breasts and you don’t even get to finish removing it, his hand reaches out to snatch it away from you, pulling the straps the rest of the way down your arms and sending it sailing somewhere behind him.   
For a moment he just looks, his lips slightly parted, one hand on your ribcage, thumb hovering just under the full part of your breast. “Jesus…” he whispers, and his eyes flick back to you for an instant and you feel heat flood your core at the naked lust burning in them.   
He’s on your breasts again, his large hands at your back, holding you to him as he sucks one full nipple hard into his mouth.   
“Oh!” you gasp, marveling at how hot his mouth is in contrast to the cold room. He switches breasts and sucks and nibbles at the other one. His hands knead, he presses both of your breasts together and lavishes attention on them each in turns. There’s nothing for you to do except try not to bite through your bottom lip as you squirm from the sensitivity, squeezing your legs at his sides as your core becomes soaked and you feel a familiar pulse begin to thrum.   
Sucking off of you with a pop, he’s breathing heavily as he places a palm between your breasts and gently pushes, making you lie back on the bed. You comply and feel him tugging at the zipper of your jeans, which he slides down your thighs and off your legs in short order.   
Oh fuck, you think, he’s really going to do it. You note that his clothes are all still very much on.   
You close your eyes as you feel him hook his fingers around the waistband of your panties next, and soon they’ve gone the way of your jeans. He tugs you down the bed a little more, in position, and you lift an arm and run a hand through your hair in anticipation as you feel him begin to kiss his way up your inner thigh. You’re practically quivering with desire already and not sure that you’re ready for this, but he wastes no time teasing you. You feel his hands on your inner thighs, thumbs pulling your lips apart, and the first touch you feel is the gentle flick of his tongue directly over your clit. You jolt, and his grip gets firmer, securing you to him. He flicks over your clit harder this time, and you gasp and grip a handful of hair in your fist, biting your lip to try and keep quiet.   
Knowing he’s found his spot, Henry works on you. He circles and darts quick flicks over your spot, his thumbs massaging from the sides, triggering secondary nerves, pushing at the sensitive bundle from all sides while Henry’s mouth attacks from the front. You’re gasping and writhing, gently at first, self-conscious, trying to be delicate. But as Henry’s efforts increase, you can’t help but get louder, one hand gripping the bed by your thigh in an effort not to grab at Henry’s curls. Your other hand is compensating by practically pulling your own hair out at the roots.   
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Henry…” you cry, and somehow he gets even more intense. You’re trying to control your hips bucking but there’s nothing for it, Henry has now wrapped both of his forearms around your thighs and is holding you open, helpless to his assault. In short order you find yourself getting lost a body-shuddering orgasm, wave over wave lashing through you as Henry licks and sucks at your spot, works around it, pressing his mouth to it keep you convulsing until the orgasm ebbs and you’re left a weak-bodied mess, little panting breathes doing all they can to bring you back to life. You feel Henry kiss the inside of your thigh, wiping what’s left of you off of his mouth.   
It’s some moments later, you can’t be sure of such basic things as the passage of time anymore, but suddenly you feel him climb up your body. You look up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, take in his suddenly bare chest, and reach up to run a thumb softly over his nipple, brushing through the hair.   
“Ready?” he asks, and you feel him at your entrance.   
“Yes.” You whisper, spreading your legs wider, hooking your arm around his neck weakly, knowing that the fire at the center of your core needed to feel him inside you still.   
He slides in slowly and you groan. “Fuck, yes…” you hiss, and he’s right there with you, a deep rumble in his chest emerging as he works his way in until he’s fully seated inside you.   
You feel his hand cup your chin. “Look at me, baby.” Your eyelids flutter open and you vaguely realize you must have appeared asleep. “Not yet.” He says.   
To show him how awake you are you throw your other arm around his neck and pull him down for a kiss, gently bucking your hips to encourage him to start moving. He obliges, fucking you slowly, breath hitching in your mouth with each thrust. You vaguely taste yourself on him and lick deeper into his mouth, causing him to return the gesture, and soon he’s fucking you as roughly as he’s kissing you, one hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back to anchor it in place as he laves kisses along your jawline, on your neck, biting at the sensitive spot just above your collarbone, all as he’s thrusting into you hard and fast.   
“Ohhh, fuck…” he’s bellowing, chanting, almost. His hand leaves your hair and he braces both arms at your sides to give himself more leverage and you grip his hips, slick with sweat, spreading your legs wider to allow him more access. He’s close, and stunningly, you are too, although after that last orgasm you were certain you’d need a rest. You slip a hand between you to rub at your clit and are rewarded with such a strong jolt your hips rocket up into his.   
“Fuck, fuck…” Henry repeats, and he withdrawals to back down your body, bracing his knees on the end of the bed and lifting your ankles to rest on his shoulders. You look hazily up at him as you continue to rub circles around yourself and he watches with a savage look in his eyes, entering you and bucking wildly again and again until he feels you contract as you come around him, biting your lip as tiny tremors retake your body. The sight of you coming and the feel of you tightening around him finishes him off, and he comes with a groan, clapping his hands on your thighs and squeezing almost enough to hurt, if you’d had any feeling left below your waist.   
He collapses onto you, nuzzling into your neck with a tired sigh. You’d like to wrap your arms around him, but you’re honestly spent at this point. Neither of you seem to have the energy to do anything other than lay there panting for awhile.  
“Am I crushing you?” he manages eventually, voice sounding sleepy.   
“Yes. I’ve been dead for the past few minutes but I didn’t want to bother you.” You answer in a slightly more alert voice.  
With a brief chuckle, he rolls over, pulling you with him. You drape yourself halfway across his chest and place small kisses across whatever part of those glorious pectoral muscles you can comfortably reach. Soon, though, you can’t ignore that there’s another matter to attend to. Rising, you pat his chest in a friendly way and lightly say, “Ok, that was great, but I’m gonna go-”  
“Oh, don’t you dare…” his voice is deep and tired, but the arm that whips up to seize your wrist is iron clad.   
Laughing, you lean down and kiss his chest again, nuzzling in. “I’m kidding. I’m just going to the bathroom to clean up.”  
“Oh.” He lets go and watches you through his lashes as you toe through the clothes strewn across the floor and retrieve your panties and then make your way to the bathroom.   
Peeing, you frown at yourself as you feel his come oozing out of you. You bear down, trying to push as much out as you can. You guess you hadn’t talked about it before, but now you’d have to stop in the morning and get some Plan B, since you weren’t on any kind of birth control. Your life plan at the moment hadn’t included having sex with anyone. This whole night was definitely poorly planned and probably ill-advised, you grumbled to yourself as you wadded toilet paper to finish cleaning yourself off.   
Emerging from the bathroom with your panties back on, you took one look at Henry sprawled on the bed and couldn’t bring yourself to regret your decision. He’d climbed under the covers and was now watching you, drinking you in hungrily with those eyes that had been devastating you since you met. You crawl into bed beside him and he pulls you to his side, kissing your hair and rubbing your back.   
“Why’d you put the underwear back on?” he asks, tone curious.  
You prop your chin on his chest to look up at him, “Why do you ask?”  
“Just curious. Also, they’re going to come off again eventually.” He says roguishly, hand slipping down and under your panties to squeeze your bare ass.   
You tuck your head back onto his chest and smile, “Of course they’re coming off eventually, just not any time soon.” Before he can object, you shift yourself up enough to place a soft kiss on his lips and whisper, “Not until morning. I need sleep.”  
He gives a “hmm” of assent and moves his hand up to your back again. In short order you’re both sound asleep, curled up peacefully around each other.


	3. First Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Straight up boning.

Morning comes, as it always does, with absolutely no respect for the fact that you’d very much like to continue to sleep without streams of light hitting your eyes. You rub your face deeper into your pillow before awareness dawns along the rest of your body and you remember that you’re naked in someone else’s bed. 

Henry’s got one heavy arm thrown across you. You lay and try to doze back off for a bit, but there’s nothing for it. You have to pee and now you’re too awake to ignore it. You open your eyes again and blink a few times, taking in the view of the morning sky through the window. It’s kind of nice. Shifting, you slowly begin to roll away from Henry, but his eyes open as if he’d been waiting for you to move the entire time. 

“What are you doing?” he murmurs, voice gruff. 

“Getting out of bed.” You say, and deftly finish your roll away from him, getting to your feet and heading towards the bathroom. You smile as you hear him stretch and groan behind you before you shut the door. 

Emerging some minutes later, Henry appears to have gone back to sleep. Since you’ve made an effort to freshen up, including brushing your teeth with his toothpaste on your finger and trying to fix the tangle of hair he’d created the night before, you’re a little bit put out. You lift the covers and slide into bed next to him, sidling up along his side and running your hand up his chest. 

His eyes don’t open as a long, low sound rumbles from his chest, but his hand comes up to still yours and you suddenly find yourself on your back as he rolls on top of you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as his muffled voice murmurs into your ear. “I like you like this.”

You laugh, squirming underneath him so you can free your arms to wrap around his shoulders. “What, naked?”

He pulls back to face you and you run your fingers through the curls in full morning fluff on top of his head, “Well that, too. But I meant like this.” His arms are wrapped around you and he rocks you back and forth a little bit, “With me. Being nice.”

You can’t help yourself, your grin is a little mocking. “You think this is me just being NICE?”

He lets out a rich laugh, his deep morning voice incredibly appealing, and buries his head back in your neck, bussing loud kisses down to your collarbone, “Well, maybe nice was the wrong word…” 

His knee has wedged itself between your thighs and you close your eyes, smiling as he continues kissing his way down your body. His silly loud kisses quickly change to more attentive ones as his lips brush against your skin, his teeth coming out for tiny nips until he makes his way to your nipples, still sensitive from last night. His morning stubble rubs against you before you feel his tongue rolling circles around one nipple, causing it to pucker painfully tight. Your arch your back and your legs instinctively try to press together, squeezing his knee in between them. He shifts to get fully on top of you and continues kissing and sucking along your breasts, his arms around you, securing you to the bed, to him, pinning you where he needs you, caressing you where he wants to. Before long you take his head in your hands and direct him to your mouth, kissing him deeply as you raise your knees to clamp him at his waist, your pelvis tilting towards his in an unmistakable invitation as it registers with him that you came back to bed with your panties off. 

You feel him smile into your mouth, pleased. His hips bear down on you, pressing you firmly into the bed and you rub yourself against his hard length. Your hands, splayed across his broad shoulders, feel the muscles underneath flexing as his entire body rocks against you, his hips create a teasing rhythm. You don’t realize the little moans that are escaping you until he breaks your kiss to gruffly murmur into your ear, “Fuck, you sound so hot.”

You moan again and roll your hips against him, desperate for more contact, increasingly impatient to have him inside you. You move your hand up his back and into his sweaty curls, kissing his earlobe and whispering, “Please fuck me, Henry. I need you to.”

You’re rewarded with a deep groan, a sound that makes it seem like you’re the one torturing him. He braces his forehead against yours, eyes closed for a moment, before he opens them and focuses on you with breathtaking intensity. He places one more kiss on your lips before he looks down your bodies and watches as he guides himself into you, slowly. You close your eyes in bliss as you finally feel him back inside of you, and you focus on the delicious feeling, his slow movements, the whole pace of your morning lovemaking languid. Through hooded eyes you watch his gorgeous face above you, taking in the flush on his cheeks, the way his hair curls over his sweaty forehead. You bite your lip and swirl your hips up into him, watching how hot it is to see him lose himself, his movements gentle and unhurried. You close your eyes and focus on what its like to have every bit of him pressed against you, from the friction of your hips against his to your bellies pressed together. The full weight of his chest against yours, how secure you feel with his arms locked around you. It’s amazing and deeply sexy and before long you can’t help that you’re pressing harder against him, bucking your hips a little faster, breathing a little shallower as you feel the hitch in your core begin to pick up. He responds, pumping into you with a little more vigor, hitting your spot a little harder, grinding as his own breath hitches and he braces himself a little higher above you with his forearms. Soon you’re both wildly fucking, bodies straining and hips rhythmically working together. He rises up, sitting back on his heels and he and holds your legs open in front of him, watching as he pounds in and out of you. You’re covered in a sheen of sweat and making desperate noises as you absorb the sensations, completely lost under his fierce ministrations. He reaches down and rubs rough circles around your clit and watches, panting and fascinated as he sends you bucking up as you come hard, gripping his sheets and crying out as your body convulses around him. 

You’re spent as you feel the tremors subside from your body even as Henry is still deep in you. He runs a hand up your body, wide palm splaying against your slick torso, holding you down as his hips continue to snap into you. A few more thrusts and he comes hard, pumping so aggressively it vaguely hurts before he’s finished and collapses, equally spent, on top of you. 

It’s a few moments before either of you speak, both of you letting your breathing get back to normal before you trust yourselves. 

“Fuck.” Henry mumbles into your chest. “That is definitely way more than ‘nice’.”


	4. It's Happening

“Dammit, Cavill.” You huff, hands on your hips. 

“Uh-oh. What have I done now?” he intones from across the room, looking up from his clothes drawer. 

You purse your lips for a moment, considering, before finally shrugging. “I don’t know. I just felt like saying it.”

Henry chuckles and finds a shirt. You watch him out of the side of your vision, sighing a bit to yourself as the broad back that had just spent no small amount of time laboring over you disappeared under the soft looking cotton. Turning back to the task at hand, you continued prodding around the floor for your other shoe. 

“How many places can it have gone?” you mutter to yourself, ducking down to check under the bed. 

“Don’t keep my skeletons there.” Henry quips, coming around the bed to find you. 

“Unless your skeletons include a collection of missing ladies shoes, I’m not much interested.” You say, squinting in the direction of where you’d thought you’d kicked your shoes off.

You miss the fact that it’s now Henry’s turn to huff at you, hands on hips. While only a small comment, your assertion that you’re not really that interested in him is an uncomfortable return to your former dynamic that he’d prefer to cut off at the pass. 

“Aha!” you cry out, and he watches as you triumphantly nab the heel of your shoe and hold it up, pleased with your victory. You’re so cute he decides to let it go. It would ruin an otherwise amazing morning for him to quibble over an offhand comment. 

That sentiment is challenged some moments later, after he fails to convince you to stay for breakfast and then has to rather forcefully point out how ridiculous it would be for you to call for a ride service when he’s perfectly willing to take you home himself. 

“I just don’t want you to have to go out of your way.” You insist, futilely jumping for your cell phone, which Henry is holding over his head, far beyond your reach. 

Henry blinks at you. Repeatedly, raising his eyebrows. Waiting for you to hear how you sound. 

You scowl at him, your expression as comically exaggerated as his own. You both stare at each other for a moment before you break, but it’s you who laughs first so you gamely admit defeat. “Fine, fine. It’s probably much more reasonable for you to take me home.”

“Probably?” Henry asks, lowering the phone. You take one last leap at it but it’s whisked back up before you can even get close to it. You laugh again, giving up and wrapping your arms around his torso. 

“I’ll only admit to probably.” You murmur, stretching up for a kiss, which he’s too happy to oblige. His arms go around you, pulling you tight to him and you sigh into how amazing it feels to be able to kiss him like this. It doesn’t stop you from trying to reach behind you and wrangle your phone from his grip, and he smiles into your kiss as he uses one hand to hold you firmly to him while holding the arm with your phone away from you. 

“God, you’re going to be trouble.” He says. 

“Well that’s always going to be the case with me.” You grin and give him a final peck before pulling away and tugging again at his shirt. “Come on, lover boy, let’s get me home.”

“Are you sure?” Henry asks, a wide smirk on his face, “Seems like there’s more we can do to keep ourselves busy here…”

“Let’s gooooo…” you whine, releasing his shirt and turning only to have Henry snag you back to him with an arm around your waist, placing a few more loud, playful kisses into the back of your neck. 

“Fine.” He says, releasing you and swatting your ass before turning to get his keys. You wait by the front door, smiling to yourself absentmindedly as you gaze out a window. 

Henry walks back into the room and sees you like this, looking soft and happy in the mid-morning light. You look up as he moves towards you, smiling, and he takes the opportunity to wrap you in another embrace, running a hand along the side of your face as his expression gets serious. “I want you to know how happy you make me.”

Caught a bit off guard, your expression is one of naked surprise as you take in his words, the gentle yet firm way he’s holding you, the disarming look of sincerity on his face. Your brain kicks back in and in an instant that expression changes as you open your mouth, but he cuts you off. “Don’t. Don’t say something snarky. I know it’s your defense mechanism but I’m being serious right now. I’m glad you're here. I want this to happen. I want you to want this, too.”

He waits, holding his breath, almost. Your eyes have gone wide again, but he can tell you’re thinking. 

“Ok.” You say slowly, and then realize you need to stop holding your own breath. You inhale deeply and breathe back out, shakily. “Henry, I really like you.” Your eyes slide to a corner of his shirt as you say it and you miss Henry grimacing in anticipation of what’s to come. You rub your lips together and frown at his shirt for another moment before looking back up at his face, “I’d like to try. But…I don’t think I’m good at this?” Henry quirks a questioning look at you, so you try to explain. “I do not have a great track record with relationships. I do get snarky and defensive and I don’t always know the right thing to do.” Henry waits, a thousand counterarguments swirling around his brain, but he waits for you. “So you’re going to have to tell me how to be a good girlfriend sometimes.” You huff this last sentence out on a breath, “And you’re going to need to have a lot of patience with me.”

There’s a beat before Henry comprehends, and then he smiles. He smiles so wide he’s afraid his face might crack. The vulnerable look on your face begins to mirror his beaming expression when he leans down to kiss you, gently, holding your face to his as his soft lips move across yours. He pulls back, smiling again. “I can do that.”

You smile back at him, sliding back into normal mode as you narrow your eyes. “I’m going to remind you that you said that at some point.” 

“Please do.” Henry says, in all sincerity, before kissing you one more time. “Thank you.” He murmurs, before pulling back and grabbing your hand, tossing his keys in the air and catching them jauntily, pulling you with him. 

“Let’s go.”


End file.
